


Ground Zero

by YlvaUllsdotter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dean Gives Oral Sex, Dom/sub, F/M, Katie's Pick-up line challenge, Oral Sex, Spanking, Sub!Dean, Tumblr Challenge, Whipping, Woman on Top, dom!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 22:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YlvaUllsdotter/pseuds/YlvaUllsdotter
Summary: Dean Winchester goes to a bar in a large city. It’s a bar that caters to a certain kind of clientele. Dean is curious.





	Ground Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Katie's Valentine's Day Pick-up Line Challenge on Tumblr. Prompt is in bold. Mind the tags. I apologize for nothing.

Still high on adrenaline from the hunt, Dean drove his Baby down the streets of Minneapolis looking for a place to park his ass and get shitfaced. The first place he saw, he pulled the black beauty to the curb and parked, ignoring the gargoyle above the entrance, telling himself he could endure some goth kids as long as he got his whiskey.

Once inside, Dean made a beeline for the bar, not even looking around. He was completely focused on getting a drink, or five, and didn’t care about anything else. Sliding onto a barstool, he flagged a bartender and placed his order. Within moments, he was throwing down his first drink, immediately gesturing for another. Once he had taken a sip of the second one, he took a deep breath, reveling in the feeling of the whiskey settling in his stomach. Relaxing slightly, he took his first real look around.

Dean realized that while the bar was busy, most of the people seemed to be clustered in an open area in front of a stage where some sort of show was going on. He turned a bit more on the stool to take in the surroundings. Sitting completely still, Dean’s eyes flicked from point to point, taking in the details and forming a picture. His first reaction was to finish his drink and get the hell out of there, embarrassing memories of The Chief flashing through his mind. Dean suppresses the urge when he realizes that a large percentage of the patrons are female. 

Turning his attention to the show taking place on the stage, Dean stills again, glass halfway to his lips. Someone, he can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman, is naked in the middle of the stage, back turned to the audience, head bowed and arms apparently crossed over their chest. The shape of the body makes him think it might be a woman, but he’s not entirely certain. The only other person on the stage is most definitely a woman though, and Dean can feel a twitch in his jeans as he takes in her appearance.

Dark blonde hair is pulled back into a severe braid that goes all the way down to her ass. A very nicely rounded ass, he notes, covered by a knee-length leather pencil skirt. His eyes travel down to her legs, which are very shapely, to her feet in black leather pumps with ridiculously high heels. His eyes move back up, briefly stopping to appreciate her ass again, to find a full leather corset covering and emphasising her curves. Full breasts swell out of the top of the corset, forming a mouthwatering cleavage. Dean has to shift slightly in his seat, his jeans suddenly feeling tight. She is wearing short fingerless leather gloves, he figures to protect her hands because she is holding a lit candle. 

Dean watches as the gorgeous amazon woman slowly covers the other person’s body in wax from the candle, each drip causing them to flinch and gasp. After she sets the candle aside, she uses her long nails to pull the wax off, leaving long red scratches down their back. A light sheen of sweat covers both of the people on stage by the end of the show. He watches as the woman in leather puts a gentle arm around the shoulders of the naked person and supports them while they disappear through a door at the back of the stage. Too distracted to notice the other people, Dean turns back towards the bar and sips his drink, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

~~~~~~

Throughout the scene, even though I was the center of attention, I had been conscious of one particular set of eyes on me. As I was leading the sub off the stage, the lights dimmed and I spotted a fresh face by the bar, his eyes seemingly riveted on me. I put it out of my mind for the moment, focusing on the aftercare of the current sub first. A good half hour later, once he was taken care of, I headed out on the floor. 

I made my way across the club, stopping to talk to people when they approached me. As one of the regulars I was well known by most, if only by word of mouth. Consequently, it took me a while to make my way to the bar. I don’t know that I expected him to be there still, exactly, but I certainly hoped he would. He was turned away from the room, his back obviously tense as he nursed a tumbler of what appeared to be whiskey. I excused myself from the people I was talking to and slid onto the stool next to him. Almost immediately a glass of water was set in front of me, and I ran a finger along the side of it, collecting drops of condensation.

He turned his whole body slightly toward me and quirked one corner of his mouth up in a small smile, which I returned. He was no spring chicken, I guessed he was about my own age, but he was absolutely gorgeous. This close I could tell his nose and cheeks were covered with a dusting of freckles and I could make out the crows feet by his eyes. I wondered if they were made from laughs or frowns.

I introduced myself, and he told me his name was Dean. We made small talk for a while, never touching on the theme of the club or what he had seen me do just a little while ago. When people started filtering out around 1:30 a.m., he went quiet for a moment, emptying his glass again. I could tell by his body language there was something he wanted to say, so I stayed quiet and waited him out. He twirled the empty glass in his fingers, stealing a glance at the whip attached to a loop on my corset. It was a [quirt](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61szopJZR1L._AC_UL160_SR160,160_.jpg), one I rarely used but liked to wear as an accessory. 

The moment stretched out as he worked up the courage, I guess. He stole another glance at the quirt and cleared his throat. Finally, he looked directly at it, then raised his eyes to mine.

“So... **Do you know how to use a whip?** ”, he managed, lips curved in a smile that I was sure would turn any woman’s nethers to a quivering mess. I, however, was an expert at reading body language, and sure enough I detected the slight tremble in his voice, the way his shoulders were pulled up a fraction and the almost imperceptible shake of his hand, betraying his nervousness. 

I slid off the stool, ending up between his legs, where I guided his hand to rest on the braided leather. With my lips almost touching his ear, I invited him to come with me and find out. Pressed against him, I could feel the slight shiver that went through him. He fished a wad of cash from his pocket, dropped a couple on the bar and just like that he was ready to go. 

As we left the club, he started toward a gorgeous black classic car, but I twined my fingers with his and pulled him with me down the street. Half a block away from the club, I stopped and punched in the security code. My basement apartment was perfect for my needs and I had made sure it was completely soundproof, no need to bother the neighbors with my lifestyle. Dean looked around as we entered and I got the impression it was mostly subconscious, a kind of scanning for threats. It made me wonder what he had been through to develop such instincts.

I pushed him up against the wall in the entryway, molding my body to his, my lips a hair’s breadth from his as I stroked my hands up his torso to slide his jacket off his shoulders. He moved to cup my ass with his hands, but I pinned his wrists to the wall and tsk’ed at him. 

“No touching”, I breathed against his slightly parted lips. “Not yet”.

His breath hitched when I rolled my hips, pressing against his crotch, and I could feel him swelling in his pants. I grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him with me down the hall, pushing open the door to my bedroom. I deposited him in the middle of the room and turned on a few dim lights, just enough to see without making the room too bright. I watched him take in my decor, the wooden cross in a corner, the spanking bench, the cuffs hanging from a chain by the foot of the bed, the various toys arranged on hooks on the wall. 

I came up behind him, gently placing my hands on his shoulders. “Scared?”, I asked him, squeezing slightly. He turned toward me, his eyes wide with surprise, but I didn’t see any fear in them. His lips curved into a small smile. “Should I be?”, he asked, green eyes locked on mine. A wicked grin was my only response before I stepped in closer.

“Tell me what you want, Dean”, I purred at him, my hands resting lightly on his hips. A shiver ran up my spine as his tongue flicked out to wet his plump lips while he looked around. His eyes roamed the room for a moment before being drawn back to mine. I felt a tug on the quirt at my side. 

Still looking into his eyes, our bodies pressed together, I could both see and feel the tension.

“Why?”, I questioned. Immediately his gaze dropped from mine and his muscles moved as he tried to pull away. I maneuvered him easily, pressing his back against one of the four sturdy bed posts, grabbing his chin to force him to look at me. 

“Tell me”, I demanded quietly. His eyes shifted to look anywhere but at me at first, but finally his gaze settled on mine again and a small sigh escaped him.

“I need it”, he whispered, followed by an almost inaudible “I deserve it”, as he closed his eyes and relaxed in my grip, waiting.

I released my grip, my hand dropping to rest on the quirt while I studied his face and thought about his words. I never liked to inflict pain on someone who thought they deserved it, for whatever reason. However, I also didn’t like to see a person suffer, and I could tell Dean had some heavy baggage. Something that made him think he deserved to be punished for some reason. 

I stepped away from him and turned my back, thoughts flying through my head almost too fast for even me to follow. I didn’t want to pry into his past, but I also didn’t want to be a part of exacerbating his obvious feelings of guilt and responsibility. If I decided to do this, would I be able to perhaps help him let go of some of the emotional pain inside him? Could I take on that responsibility? 

All of the thoughts ran through my head in mere moments and when I turned back around, he was still standing the way I left him, back against the bed post, eyes closed, head tilted slightly forward as if already anticipating rejection. That posture was what finally decided for me. I needed to do all I could to help this man, this virtual stranger who had affected me so strongly. 

“Dean”, I said his name softly as my hand cupped his face, gently raising his head. He opened his eyes and looked at me, seeing my serious expression and his breath hitched ever so slightly. I offered a small reassuring smile. “I don’t know why you believe you deserve to be punished”, I told him, “but I want to help you”. Confusion filled his eyes and I took a second to admire how purely aesthetically pleasing he was, before diving in head first.

“You will do exactly what I tell you. If something feels wrong, say ‘red’ and I will stop. If you need a moment to adjust, say ‘yellow’ and we’ll pause. When you’re ready to go on, say ‘green’. If I ask you how you’re doing, give me a color. Do you understand?”, I rattled off, pausing to give him time to respond.

He blinked as he absorbed the information, then nodded. Satisfied, I fisted a hand in his shirt and used the grip to direct him to stand where I wanted him, a couple of feet away from the bed, facing it. When I was satisfied, I released him and sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing my legs and placing my hands on either side of me.

“Strip”, I commanded,  my gaze locked on him. Again, he blinked slowly as he adjusted, before he started to take his clothes off. Keeping an eye on me, he toed off his boots then shrugged out of his jacket, dropping it on the floor. When I didn’t give him any other directions, he simply peeled off his layers quickly and efficiently, until he was standing naked in front of me. His hands went to cover himself, but at a slight frown from me, he let them drop to his sides.

I stood up then, and approached him, walking slowly around him. He was in shape, no question about it, but in a casual sort of way, like a man who has a physically demanding job. I admired his physique, toned in all the right places while still being nice and soft. He gave the impression of a steel hammer covered in just the right amount of padding to appear soft. 

“Don’t move”, I told him, as I ran my hands lightly over his skin, watching goosebumps erupt all over him. I traced patterns in his freckles with my fingertips, exploring every inch of skin I could reach, while moving around in front of him, all the while gauging his reactions. His eyes were closed, I noted in passing, lips slightly parted as he let himself enjoy the feeling of my hands on his skin. 

I traced one long fingernail around his nipple, watching it pucker and harden, and eliciting a breathy sigh from Dean. I repeated the action on the other nipple as well, before taking both hardened nubs between thumb and index finger. I started by gently rolling them between my fingers, slowly increasing the pressure until finally I was rewarded by a low groan falling from his lips. I slid my hands down to rest on his hips and leaned in to swipe my tongue over each nipple in turn, soothing the sore flesh.

Leaving him for a moment, I retrieved a pair of padded leather suspension cuffs from a drawer. When I turned back toward him, his eyes were open and he was watching me. Lifting each arm in turn, I strapped the restraints snugly around his wrists, turning them so they were in the correct position. I ran my finger under each cuff, making sure they weren’t too tight, before letting go of him.

“Stand here”, I pointed to the foot of the bed, indicating the hooks set in the bed posts. He shuffled forward until his legs were pressed against the bed and raised his arms without having to be prompted. Rewarding him with a small smile, I quickly attached the cuffs to the hooks, leaving him securely restrained, his whole back now spread before me like a canvas.

I waited while he tested the restraints, finding them secure enough. Meanwhile, I detached the quirt from where it was hooked through a loop on my corset and let it unfold at my side. Moving around him, I held it up for him to see, and a visible shiver went through him at the sight. I noted all the small signs: hands clenching, shoulders tensing, tongue nervously slipping out to wet his lips. 

“Color?”, I demanded. “Green”, fell from his lips so quickly I almost didn’t catch it. 

Nodding, I moved behind him, doubling the quirt in my hand and running the leather over his back, letting him feel it, giving the occasional light tap to an ass cheek or a shoulder. I watched his muscles tense and last minute doubts tried to snake their way into my mind. I quickly shut them down, the decision was already made. 

I let the quirt fall free at my side, then raised it and with a snap of my wrist the tip sliced across his shoulder blade, leaving behind a dark pink welt two inches long. 

His body flinched forward, hands clenched into fists, and a breathy grunt escaped his lips, followed by harsh breaths as he absorbed the pain. 

The second stroke landed across his other shoulder blade, leaving another welt that was a symmetrical twin to the first. Again, I waited while his body absorbed the sensation.

Only a harsh breath escaped him this time as he held back, refusing to let the pain take over.

As the strokes continued to fall, painting a pattern of welts across his back, I watched as the pain built up inside him, his breaths harsh as he did his best to block out the pain. I switched my angle, and let the next stroke land across his ass cheek, finally drawing a sound from him, something in between a muffled grunt and a sob. By now, his whole body was trembling, every muscle tense and strained. He was close to the breaking point.

With each following stroke, Dean became more and more strung out, coming closer and closer to that point. 

Until finally, the next stroke landed where his ass cheek met his thickly muscled thigh, the tip of the quirt lashing the inside of his thigh, and Dean broke. 

His clenched fists flew open, fingers scrabbling and grabbing onto the leather. His head, which had been bowed toward his chest as he fought the pain, flew up, lips parted in a gasping breath as a pained cry filled the room. 

As I continued to land stroke after stroke across the backs of this thighs, his harsh breaths became sobs, tears began leaking freely from his eyes, and his body visibly relaxed, riding each wave of pain instead of trying to control it. 

Satisfied, I landed the last few strokes to finish my pattern, and to let him properly find his headspace, before dropping the quirt onto a chest of drawers. Gently, I helped him move his legs until he was kneeling on the bed. I stepped out of my heels and got up on the bed myself, wrapped an arm around him and reached up to release the cuffs one at a time. 

Dean was still panting harsh sobs, tears running freely down his face, as I held him up. Wrapping both arms around him, I held him and let him come down on his own, mumbling reassurances in his ear. I reached one hand up to card my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, massaging his scalp. Finally, his breathing slowed and he gave a deep sigh, wrapping his arms around me in turn and pressing close to me.

“You ok?”, I murmured in his ear. He nodded and managed to rasp out “Green”, as he hugged me closer. 

“C’mere”, I whispered, my breath ghosting hot against his skin, and guided us both further up on the bed. As he regained use of his limbs, I gently untangled myself from him and cupped his face in one hand to look into his eyes. The green orbs were red-rimmed and shiny with tears, but his lips quirked up in a small, almost shy, smile. 

“Thank you”, he whispered. “I...I mean you...you…”, he mumbled, stammering. I took pity on him and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Shh. I know”, I told him, before brushing my lips against his in a soft kiss. Sliding one hand up along his arm and shoulder, it finally came to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him closer as our lips met again, molding together in a soft kiss. I slipped the tip of my tongue over the seam of his lips and he eagerly parted them to let me in. Our tongues danced together, exploring, touching, tasting, until we had to break apart, panting for air.

I leaned back against the mound of pillows behind me, my hand still on the back of his neck pulling him with me, until he was draped over my body. Quick fingers danced across the row of fastenings on my corset until it fell open, releasing my breasts to spill out, drawing a moan from Dean’s lips. His eyes flicked up to mine, silently asking for permission. In response, I fisted my hand in his short hair and guided his lips to my nipple, while my other hand wrapped around his wrist, still encased in the leather cuff, and moved it to my other breast. Then I lay back and let myself enjoy the feeling of his lips and tongue and fingers giving all the attention to my breasts and nipples.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I used my grip on his hair to guide him down my torso and between my legs. He wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me in against him, apparently intent on taking it slow. I would have none of that, however, and instead ground his face against myself. He was quick to take the hint and dove in with lips and tongue and fingers, humming in pleasure as he worked to bring me to my climax.

With two of his blunt fingers working inside me, his tongue alternately dragging over my clit in slow licks and flicking it while he sucked it between his lips, I was quickly there, my inner walls clenching around his fingers while he eagerly lapped up my juices gushing out of me. 

Finally, with a tug on his hair, I pulled him away from my sensitive core. He slid up to lie against my side, satisfied to wait while I came down from my high. 

When I finally managed to catch my breath, I shifted to lie on my side, and leaned over to kiss him, tasting myself on his lips. Leaning back, I looked into his eyes.

“How are you feeling, Dean?”, I asked him, gently carding my fingers through his hair.

His eyes half-lidded, he gave me a languorous smile. “So good. I didn’t even know I could feel this relaxed”, he replied, his voice still husky for all the reasons. He shifted his head slightly so he could see me better. “Do you...do you think...could I see you again?”, he managed to get out, looking for all the world as vulnerable as a puppy.

“I’ll think about it”, I replied as I rolled over and got up from the bed, stretching sensuously and making sure he got a good look. I reached into my closet for a silk kimono which I wrapped around me before turning back toward him. I watched him for a moment, then leaned down to pick up his pants and tossed them at him. His expression was almost comical to watch as it went from expectant to ‘beaten puppy’. He slowly pulled his pants on, then dejectedly collected his remaining pieces of clothing and continued getting dressed. 

Suppressing the urge to laugh, I used the time to grab one of my business cards from my desk and scribble my cell number on the back. When he was done dressing, standing by the door ready to leave, I stepped in close to him and pulled him down for a deep, demanding kiss. His confused expression when I pulled away was priceless. I held the card out to him and he took it carefully as if it might explode any second. Or maybe as if he thought I might take it back.

“Call me anytime, honey”, I smiled at him as I held the door open for him. The sight of his happy grin as he left would stay with me for weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> The club is inspired by Ground Zero in Minneapolis, MN. Here's a link to their FB page: https://www.facebook.com/GroundZeroNightclubMpls/  
> I've never been there so I apologize for any mistakes.


End file.
